Snow Snow Snow...

Tom Avery is perhaps the only person I know who's spoken sense about the recent snow falling in London...

What’s so bad about ‘The Big Freeze’?

December 20, 2010 by Tom Avery

Sure, businesses are affected, travels nigh on impossible, it’s cold and wet, the economy suffers and for some inexcusable reason do owners don’t pick up their canine’s doodoo. But look outside! It’s magnificent.


I just do not understand people who don’t like snow! Go and build a snowman, go sledging, have a snow ball fight. What could be better.
I was watching the weather report and couldn’t believe the way the reporter talked about this glorious blanket of white. “Awful amount of snow”, “Thank goodness it’s not snowing in . . .”, “Nasty band of snow”, these were some of the choice phrases he used.
Even better than the fun to be had in snow is the change it effects upon people. Suddenly, you’re talking to people in shops about the snow, delivery men have a story to tell about how they got to your front door, and passersby greet you with a hello and a knowing look is passed between you.


In short, I love snow!

And a congratulations to Tom and Chloe for the birth of their second child, Rocco Winston Thomas Avery, born 13th December!

Bah Humbug...

Our church small group recently came together for a lovely Christmas party... when we heard Band Aid's Do They Know It's Christmas Time/ Feed the World. We proceeded to rip this song to piece's (despite it's charitable qualities), a few lines were the main sources of annoyance.

a) Bono sings like his life depends on it the following words "Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you" ... real charitable, Bono, real charitable. If I were a starving whoever, wherever I'd be wanting to kick him in the face. Hard. There's nothing quite like a kick while you're down! Great lyric!

b) They all link arms and declare "There won't be snow in Africa this Christmas..." So what. At the time of writing there wasn't any snow in England any Christmas. Do you think African pop-stars get together in the summer all declaring "There won't be sun in Eng-er-land this summer..."??? Me neither.

c) "Where the only water flowing is a bitter sting of tears... Where nothing ever grows, no rain or rivers flow" Whoa! Way harsh!

Great chorus though!

Done and Dusted (Literally)...

We've done it. We're officially moved out. Yesterday we had a troop of friends helping to get the last bits out and thoroughly clean the place. We have some absolutely amazing friends out there - there were even people scrubbing our oven who I had literally never met or seen. Ridonculous.

I don't really know who reads this, if anyone, other than Sam, Ben and my hot hottie of a wife, and as such I write as if no one is really reading. Sometimes I get too mad, or sad, or whatever...unguarded you might say.

Leaving the house has brought out so many differing emotions in me. Last night I shocked at how I was feeling...utterly selfish. Essentially we're being kicked out of our house against our will at Christmas time. What an ultimatum to give*.

So our incredible friends have offered to put us up until we can find the right house, at the right price, in the right location. A monumental gesture of friendship in allowing us to completely invade their lives. Yet we don't want to be there. It's an amazing house and we have more than enough space - we even need to use the baby monitor now to hear our child cry!

I hate feeling like this because I think of the many hundreds of thousands of people worldwide living without a roof over their heads. I think about large families squashed into one tiny room because that's all they can afford. I get sad because we can no longer host as we choose, that it's not a "what we want, when we want it" rulebook temporarily. I keep thinking "this sucks"... but does it? It's a huge blessing! We're just being caught up in God's great grace. I know that we'll have the perfect place soon - I think I just need to adjust my attitude in the meantime**.


*Please note "kicked out" isn't due to rent payments etc etc, they are proposing putting another level on our building so the who block got given notice.

**Disclaimer - the couple putting us up are a wonderful couple. They are generous beyond belief, understanding and sympathetic to our situation, and have been great friends to Liz and I since their arrival in England. We have utmost respect for them. This blog is no way construing that they are a suffocating presence (in their own house, no less!!) or by any means lessening out quality of life. We love them dearly and are so grateful for all they are doing and have done for us.

My Phenomenal Wife...

My wife is utterly phenomenal. Like ridiculous. I can't believe her endurance.

Right now she is doing everything. Everything. We move house on Saturday, and I've barely lifted a finger. She's done it all, and she's done it all whilst looking after a teething baby, getting up for night feeds, cooking me dinner, letting me gate-crash marriage night with studies and coping with my grumpy, tired self. She's putting up with chaos at home with moving bits everywhere.

My admiration for this woman has at least tripled in the last week, and that's from a tremendously high starting point.

And you know the crazy thing? She'll probably be doing this all over again in a couple of months time. My wife is phenomenal.

Thinly Spread...

It hit me tonight, for the first time really, just how thinly spread I've become.

I long to be the perfect man, but maybe haven't realised just how much that entails until tonight. Don't get me wrong, I will strive to be this guy until my last breath... it's just exhausting!

I am currently trying to be the perfect husband, the perfect daddy, the perfect worker, studier, small group leader, worship team member to name a few things. This coming week could potentially be the most exhausting ever. We are getting closer to moving day (next Saturday) which is an emotional roller coaster in itself. I then have a large project at work being handed in on Friday and am trying to keep my head above water. On top of that I have my first University coursework hand-in on Wednesday, as well as my first examination in Construction Law.

My thought right now is bring on next week, when all of the above craziness will be over, only to be replaced by a whole lot more stuff, I'm sure.

3 Years, 1 Baby, 7 Cars...

I haven’t the time to blog, due to tight work deadlines, but Liz just reminded me that it was our 3 year dating anniversary last week! One of the best decisions ever and a night that would change my life forever. I like to think I’m a stats man, a straight thinker. If you want “outside the box” then I’m not your man.

One of the first things I thought of when “3 years” was brought to my attention was just how many cars we’ve had in that time… for the record, it’s 3 years, 7 cars! Here’s the breakdown

- Skoda Fabia – my housemates car which was leant to me for a year. The car we went on our first date in

- Ford Fiesta – Liz’s insanely beat up (by the end) first car in the UK. Served us amazingly well, despite obviously flaws (and lack of obvious floors dues to Liz’s “dump on site” philosophy!)
- Toyota Carina – Belonged to my sister-in-laws parents. We loved this car for a day – it worked! Day 2, the fuel pump broke, £300. After a month the head-gasket blew. Another car down.

- Vauxhall Vectra – Another car from a friend. This time the turbo was broken – 0-30 in 15-18 seconds. We went no where fast.
- Toyota something – my first Automatic car. Came at the right time, fun to drive until I tried putting the non-existent clutch down which was the break.

- Ford Focus – an almost new car. Work offered me a company car, this was my interim. The car of my dreams since I was a wee lad. Loved it
- VW Golf Estate – At 24 I was choosing a car based on the size of its trunk, unexpected. Received with less than 100 miles on the clock, this will now be our car for 2 and a half years.



Wow…

Tall Stories...

A (none to intelligent) friend once told me that a man who worked in a skyscraper wanted to commit suicide. This man decided to jump out of his office window near the top of the ‘scraper. The story goes that on his decent there was such a huge gust of wind that he was blown back in to the building through his colleagues’ open window.

That’s funny. Not the “suicide” bit, but the ridiculous bit.

It begs the question – who on earth would design a skyscraper with windows that people can either fall in to or out of. That is a huge design flaw and, honestly, asking for trouble. A part that really gets me going is trying to imagine a man working hard at his desk, only for a full sized human being to fall onto it from the sky.

You can’t make this stuff up. No, wait, I think he just did…

Recent Distant Memories...

From nowhere I was just reminded of a conversation I had with my dad the day we brought Josephine home. It went something like this:

Me: I can’t believe she’s so long… she can’t even see her feet

Dad: How far can she see?
Me: About a foot, and she’s 18 inches (or something like that length – I can’t recall exactly)
Dad: She can see her feet!
Me: A foot is 12 inches, Granddad.
Dad: [Laughed a lot] Oh yeah.

It’s a conversation that I don’t expect dad to remember, heck, it’s a conversation I’m surprised I remember. I don’t know what makes it so memorable, or why it warms my heart so much. Was it that it was the first moment I had alone with my hero and my daughter at the same time; was it the fact that dad got it wrong (and he never gets it wrong) because he was overjoyed at seeing his first granddaughter (I assume)? Or maybe it just warms my heart thinking about the early days with my daughter?

She already seems so grown up – supporting her head, occupying herself by talking and playing, the need of independence already and awareness of the outside world- I wonder where the time has gone! I am truly besotted with my daughter – every morning I now have to catch my breath twice; when I realise who I’m married to, and when I get the first glimpse of Josephine before work. I am blessed.

The Man with Many Faces…

Sounds a bit like a great song title, doesn’t it? But increasingly I feel like I have too many personas.

Over the years, I’ve not put much theology or much about Church or Christianity at all in my blog – I even thought of creating a separate blog for such musings; a personal and fun one, and a serious theological one. Actually, such is the impact of God on my life, my everyday thought patterns naturally have my relationship with God splattered all over them.

This week I have been strongly reminded that my confidence should be who God says I am. Looking at scripture, the stand out things is that I am a son of God, and as such am an heir. This should give me increasing confidence in who I am – chosen by the King of kings!

I’ve noticed recently that I am a lot of different people in a lot of different settings. At work, I am quiet, secluded, timid, lacking in confidence because I feel that people will judge my character by how I perform my job – a job in which I still feel I’m finding my feet in despite being here for 2.5 years now. I’m the quiet boy who gets on with his work, who stutters and mumbles and panics and goes red when those in authority ask me questions. At home I’m comfortable and relaxed and feel like I’m the “real Phil” – being around Liz is being in a comfortable environment because I know I can screw up and she’ll still love me and be for me. At leaders meetings at church I’m often quiet, because I’m all too aware that there are many in the room of have a deeper biblical knowledge than I. On the football pitch I am full of confidence, a joker and (I like to think) fun to play with because, actually, I think sport is a strength and this is reflected in my attitude. Around my in-laws I’m quiet, wouldn’t say boo to a ghost, polite because I still feel like I’m trying to make a good impression and come from a completely different culture.

In short, I put on a face dependant on where my comfort zone and confidence is in that particular scenario. They overlap, too. At work, if I’m comparing baby stories, I’m me, because I know about that!

My aim is to have this approach no longer – I am who God says I am, and that’s more than enough for me!!!

Dogs...

I've been in an exceptionally good mood these last few days. I have a loving wife, the cutest daughter in the world and a God who works all things for His glory. Yet I've been in a ranting mood. So we have the following to add to yesterday's rant...

Last night my friend got chased by a large dog. He had to go to hospital, is now on crutches, has many injuries, and had major shock. He broke his phone, he has a family with 3 children under 20 months, he's had to stay off work today.

Can you imagine the outrage if I were to chase a dog down the street for no reason and cause these injuries. Can you imagine the call for me to be locked up.

Why is it that people care more about their pets than, well, people. Why is it that there is a greater call for justice when a man attacks a dog than a dog attacks a man? That's twisted in my opinion.

Tabloids, You Suck...

It was only on Tuesday that I heard the allegations against Mr. Wayne Rooney. when it appeared something was up with England's soccer hope, I investigated for a minute or 2... to be greeted with this:

"Do you have a story about a star? Call The Sun’s newsdesk on 020 7782 4100 Email: exclusive@the-sun.co.uk"

In bold letters, in the middle of this story. Is it just me, or is this so sleazy it makes me feel a tad nauseous? It makes me wonder if this self-styled "prostitute" saw this banner somewhere and new how to make a few bucks.

Right now, I'm mad with the media... in less than a week you may have destroyed a whole family over "allegations" which seem to have no basis in truth, only word of mouth, and monopolised our national sport so that I have to pay through the nose to watch them. Which I can't so I don't.

Chipotle London...

Erm... Chipotle has now opened a store in London! Excited... heck yes! I can't wait for my first Burrito... bring it on.

Americanism's

I find that, increasingly, I use way more Americanisms than “Englishisms”. This has also been a conscious decision on my part for a few underlying factors; a) through increasing American contacts and b) the TV and film industry.

Having married an American, I now have an increasing amount of American’s who I’d like to communicate with – the easiest way to do so is through using Americanisms. I don’t feel like this is a bad thing, and I don’t feel like I’m neglecting where I came from or who I am by doing so. The aim is communicating well across the board, no matter who my audience with.

I feel like this is more allowed due to the way TV and film have affected the way we talk and have given us a huge amount of exposure to American culture (albeit probably an exaggerated version). I think about it logically, and actually all of my favourite TV shows (bar Match of the Day and Topgear) are American – even in the sport arena, I’m longing for the NFL season to get up and running again! American’s, in my opinion, do not have the same exposure to English culture. I am using phrases or words such as “diapers” or “stroller” over their English counterparts, “nappies” and “pushchairs”. If truth be told, then I’m sure most of my English friends know exactly what a diaper or stroller is, because we are exposed to that culture and set of words.

It’s not a bad thing, and I don’t feel any guilt in doing this. I just want people to understand me, ya’ll.




P.S. I wonder just how many times in the above I’ve been very “English” as opposed to “American”… is it time for me to eat my words yet?

How Freakin' Cute is My Daughter...?

Josephine Kate is now 8 weeks old. Can you tell how she's already managed to get daddy wrapped around her little finger???

Yesterday was the first day I’ve been “let loose” on a sporting field for about 16 weeks (following Mr. Ben Leaman’s broken shin). It also meant I got my first sporting injury for, ohh, about 16 weeks!

After church we had a picnic and a friendly game of cricket. For those American’s reading who are unsure of cricket, I’ll give you one basic rule that will make this story clearer: If the batsman hits the ball over the boundary line (like the edge of the field in baseball) and it has touched the ground before passing said line, four runs are scored by the batsman.

In this “friendly” game, a friend who was batting just too well hit the ball fairly hard- me being me chased after this ball, and not wanting to let four runs go past me, I slid on my leg for a few metres, stopping the ball with my foot and launching it back towards the bowler. This was the result:



I subsequently had the most painful shower I’ve ever had. Followed by one of the worse nights sleep I can remember. Followed by feeling nauseous all day as a result of lack of sleep/ leg pain. And people thought I’d be tired because of a baby… they obviously don’t know me too well!

The silly thing is, that given the same scenario, with the benefit of hindsight, aware of the risk involved, I’d do exactly the same. Put my body on the line for the win!

It's a Girl...!

It’s probably an indication of how I’ve become a [lacklustre] blogger and a slightly more devoted reader that I feel guilty for not posting about our new delivery yet – despite how demanding having a new baby can be. I think people will be more compassionate about the lack of blogging than the Facebook photo requests, but still, this is my platform to brag about my wonderful daughter!

So, my son certainly knows how to make an entrance – mainly due to the fact a daughter popped out! Josephine Kate was born on Sunday 27th June and thankfully came just in time to save me from the apparent disgrace that was England 1 v 4 Germany. This is the first World Cup in memory that I’ve not suffered some form of England-not-being-as-good-as-I-thought-they-were-depression. This is an indication of how much love I have for out new bundle of joy!

After 47 hours of labour, 4 different world cup games watched, countless games at Wimbledon seen through, wearing my Marathon Men tee for most of the duration (I think Liz blames this a tad), Liz kicking my butt at Nerts a few times despite having awful contractions and having a diet of Doritoes and Haribo for three days, a wonderful surprise package came out.

It took me three attempts to wipe away tears and check to see if it really was a daughter before coming to the conclusion that our darling girl must have produced the mother of all finger-wieners during our 12 week scan. Proud moment for me right there. What’s more is that despite calling her “him” for so long, it didn’t feel weird or wrong holding a daughter, it felt natural and right. Not that I wouldn’t have been over the moon with a son, but it doesn’t feel like there’s a son shaped hole in our lives – Josie is more than I could ever have wished for and if one day I’m blessed with a son I will be equally overjoyed.

She has gotten all of her positive attributes from her mom – her good looks and her chilled out personality – and a double chin and big hands and feet from her dad!

In short, I am the proudest man alive – have been for 15 glorious days now (she’s only 12 days old, but the Friday-Sunday of labour Liz was astonishingly laid back, coped fantastically well and made me beam with how well she coped with the ordeal!) and will be for the rest of my life. I know every child is the most beautiful and the most special and loved alive, but Josie is the real deal. There are so many things that I love about her already, when she yawns I swear there is nothing cuter, after she sneezes she makes the most hilariously funny noise which has her dad in hysterics, she finds the best positions to get out poop causing her to either throw herself around my torso or demand mom so that she can poop on her (3 times now!).

I’ll try not to make this a “Phil is bragging about his family again” blog- but no promises. They are simply and utterly wonderful.

P.S. Good luck Sarah Nichols… who is having a girl (??) so very soon. We can’t wait to meet her!

*Regretfully, I will not be posting pictures on this blog – we have taken the stance that only password protected sites will have photos on them.

New Purchases...

On Saturday, Liz and I got the last of the “essentials” before baby comes along. We ended up getting things that I never thought I would purchase or have never purchased before, including a shower cap (which I actually tired out this morning!), a sieve (they just always seem to be around!) and some Colgate Plax Mouthwash (buy on get one free – ohhh yeah!)

It is with the Colgate Plax that I take particular issue with. On the back there is blurb about “fighting plaque” and “keeping cavities healthy”… the usual, the stuff that store brand 3 litre bottles for 50 pence also say. On said packaging there was a call to use it before you go to bed and wake up “feeling great”…

In my mind I pictured* waking up, rolling over and smooching my wife with amazing minty freshness - with her amazed face certain it was kissing a cool breeze- and getting along with the day feeling so great that I even forgot to brush. Turning up to church and people literally turning their heads and chasing after me to say one thing: "I've never smelt such minty goodness extruding from one's mouth before.What on earth do you use?"

When I woke up, it smelt like something had died in my mouth. Seriously. My feelings of grandeur were immediately expelled and I let my wife lay in ignorant peace for another few hours.

You lied to me, Colgate. You lied.



*I have no minds eye, and therefore cannot conceivably “picture” anything in my mind. When I read Harry Potter I imagine my old secondary school because I know the layout and don’t need to picture anything

Happy Father's Day...

A day late, I know, but I was distracted yesterday by the most amazing wife giving me a great father’s day. Despite the fact that our kid is now 9 days overdue so I haven't gotten to physically hold our child yet, Liz summoned the energy to make me feel like an amazing father already – I even got a card signed from the little one!

Everyone who knows me (especially those at my wedding reception) will know how much my dad means to be. Indeed, the only time I cried during the whole day was to address my father during my speech! I truly believe that if I turn out to be half as good a dad to my children as he has been to me, then my family will flourish. I find myself increasingly not wanting to take him for granted, as I know many out there do not have this kind of relationship.

I wanted not to just mention this great man, but another who in football terms may be described as his opposite number; my father-in-law, Bob Watkins (or Big Bob to most).

I have only had the pleasure of spending about 6 weeks of my life with him, and only spoken to him on the phone a handful of times – yet his warmth and integrity and welcoming qualities shine through abundantly. His sense of humour and candidness are remarkable (typically after most of my punch lines Liz will tell me that it was a joke her dad would tell!), I remember asking for Liz’s hand in marriage and his response was: “Sure… you have to live with her”!!

We don’t appear to have much in common – we grew up an ocean apart; he’s into baseball, I’m into football; he’s incredible at Trivial Pursuit, I struggle with multiple choice questions; his scorecard reads like a soccer score, mine like a cricket score – yet I feel completely at home when with him, it's just so clear that he's a quality man. He’s quietly spoken, but will produce a real gem when he converses. I can sit for hours with him in a room without saying anything, and feel like we've had quality time.

This isn’t meant to be a soppy blog, so I'll stop before I've taken it too far (fearing that I already have); I just happen to have two great men in my family.

Happy Fathers Day, guys.

Open Letters...

Dear Son…

We’re ready for you to come out now! Your room is decorated, you have a nice cozy place to sleep and a whole room to yourself if you so desire. The finishing touches have been put into place, so now we need a baby to come and occupy our lives, we have been waiting almost 10 months you know!

If I can meet you soon I would be most grateful.

Yours forever,
Dad


Dear World Cup,

I knew I was right to keep faith in you. I told you that the second round of games are now must win and will get more exciting. You’re welcome. Thank you for offering football for a whole month, right now, you’re one of my favourites.

Thank you also for scheduling my three countries to play today. The German quarter of me will be cheering at 12.30pm, the American side (which I know, I technically haven’t got one… but have fairly significant ties) will be vuvuzelaing at 3.00pm and the English ¾’s going crazy come 7.30. What a day.

Yours for a month more,
Phil

Dear world,

We will tell you when the baby comes… no need to keep asking! The standard response to “any signs yet” will continue to be “have you heard anything??”

Thanks,
Mean Old Man


Dear Freebie Friday,

Thank you for putting your leftover sandwiches out in the canteen at 2 o’clock… double lunch is unnecessary, but I’ll take it. Every week.

Never hungry on Fridays,
Phil

Britain's Got Confidence Issues...?

Please take note. This is NOT a rant against people, this is a rant at media manipulation and the predictability of talent style shows. NB: My work computer is pony, so it wouldn't let me upload the actual videos- please click on links for Christopher Stone and Paul Burling to see this years talent!


Liz and I love to watch Britain’s Got Talent, X Factor and occasionally American Idol (last years Allen v Lambert final was quite the spectacle). But more so with Britain’s Got Talent (BGT) than any other, I’m starting to get a little frustrated. Every year there seems to be an older lady or fellow, who still live with their parents, and has a severe lack of confidence. Someone no one believes in, who is fighting against the odds and is stepping out of their comfort zone to make themselves vulnerable before millions of viewers. Someone who a Jock would call a loser, who just happens to be an amazing singer.


Season one was Paul Pott (who went on to win the thing), season two had another similar act (albeit this time a young boy), season three we had the sensational Sue-Bo, and this year we have another one, another Paul or Sue-Bo. His name? Christopher Stone.

I kind of get fed up with the predictability of this. People probably vote for him because he has an amazing voice… I’m not looking to knock that or his confidence in the slightest… I’m just craving a touch of variety, such as Paul Burling who last night made it into the final.Christopher, despite his obvious talent, will not win… the winner will be Spelbound, an amazing group of dancing gymnasts who leave me open mouthed every time I see them.

This may seem like a peculiar rant from a man who cannot get enough of cheesy American Dream flicks, such as Remember the Titans, Coach Carter and Invincible. (With Glory Road on my “to watch” list- possibly due to the presence of Emily Deschanel of Bones.) It’s really getting frustrating. Some class acts did not get through last night because the usual sob story prevailed.

This seems harsh… I actually applaud these people for their guts and am regularly impressed by their quality voices; I just wish they’d rename the show Britain Can Sing and Dance, because no other act has got a chance.

Bike Adventures...

The bike saga continue…

This morning on my cycle work, I chose to go up a fairly steep hill, for the future glory of a long down stretch. Mistake. Today’s mistake wasn’t made by me though… it was by some tiny lady, in a car that was too big for her, a Chrysler Voyager.

As I was picking up speed (probably at about 20-25 mph) I was going past traffic in a cycle lane. The picture below details a 100m stretch of road on which this lady thought she could bypass said traffic, the red line being the travel of car, the blue being me… the issue being that she swerved into this road, without indicating, without checking her mirrors. I was about two car lengths back, had to slam on both sets of breaks, veer into a curb to help with the slow down, travel into the trees and produce a big gash in my tire wall and inner tube.

Dang.

As I stood there in disbelief, having gotten out of the trees and examined the damage, I could only think of one thing to do… inform this lady of her dangerous manoeuvre. I picked up my bike, and sprinted down the road, by which time she was back onto the main road. I knocked on her window and proceeded to carefully, and calmly, explain the process by which I fell into the trees and damaged my bike. The only thing I forgot was to get her contact details so she could replace my broken parts.

Idiot.

The latter part of the conversation went like this:
Silly Woman (hereafter SW): I had no idea you were there
Me: That’s why you should check your mirrors before you turn
SW: But I didn’t even see you
Me: I know, I crashed to avoid you. That’s why you should check your mirrors and indicate before you turn,
SW: I didn’t see you… [by this time she seemed in shock and shaken up…]
Me: It’s ok, just check in future.

No less, I’m at work, unharmed, have a story to tell, but am out of pocket.

What's Hot, What's Not...

Dear Cars all over the world,

Cyclists have rights too. Just because you have the horsepower, doesn’t mean I am not allowed to overtake you. Just because you’re bigger, it doesn’t mean you don’t have to look in your mirrors when you turn. A cycle lane is for cycling, not for parking, and certainly not for swerving into when you’ve made a mistake or aren’t concentrating.

I don’t have a hooter… if I need to, I will shout to make my presence known – if you don’t like it, please suggest a suitable alternative.

A helmet doesn’t make me indestructible.

That is all… for now. The vendetta may continue.

What’s Hot, What’s Not…

Wind… I don’t like you. You only seem to make things worse.

Spooner… I like you. Liz is always in a good mood after spending two and a half hours talking to you.

Guitar… I like you, but please stop hurting my fingers. I caress your strings as often as I can.

In other News…

Two years ago yesterday, Liz agreed to marry me. My life has never been the same since. A whirlwind of adventure has ensued in a non-stop fashion; if a montage was created of the last two years it would definitely be set to a high tempo song with lots going on, as opposed to Aqualung’s Strange and Beautiful. We managed to get married, have operations, have fun holidays, and are on the brink of our first child popping out. We’ve had weddings, funerals, baby dedications, special birthday parties, have 2 god-children, have seen both sets of parents become grandparents… a huge amount has happened in just two years. Was there really ever a time that I wasn’t married?? It seems peculiar that there may have been.

Liz is my favourite person on this world… that I get to spend every day with her for the rest of my life is kind of overwhelming, I am a blessed man. Her commitment to me is beyond question, just as I’d do anything for her. At the risk of sounding cheesy, it is 100% the grace of God on our lives that blesses us in this inexplicable way. How the heck did a girl grow up an ocean apart from me, mature into the most amazing woman, then somehow end up with a wet Englishman… crazy. I am wholly bemused by this!

Thanks for an amazing two years, Liz!

It's a Bad Day When...

It’s never a good day when one of the following happens…

…You get out of the shower and into your clothes, then decide it’s time to discard the chicken stock that’s been in your fridge for two weeks…only for it to slip and cover you in foul smelling ming.

…you cycle to work, get to work and find that you didn’t bring spare boxers or socks. Am now sat at my desk with my tighty-whitey’s (which only ever make appearance for sporting occasions) and white trainer socks. I look like Michael Jackson when I walk – not the style of walk, more the white socks/ pale skin with dark trousers. I’m currently trying to convince my wife to bring me some spares…

Surely this day can only get better with a night of Bones, Glee and Jonathon Ross!

It's Been a While...

How do I do this again?

It’s been a while coming- I apologize for my lack of posting… now where to start the catch up? My baby boy is due in less than a month now (which means the World Cup is also less than a month away now!)…that’s kinda weird! He already appears to be a child who knows what he wants; if my arm is rested against Liz’s tummy he will kick and push until I finally move it. Its fun discovering the positions my baby is getting himself into within the womb and feeling for body parts!

Something that has recently made me even more eager to meet our man and see what kind of personality he has is that my friends, Justin and Louise, have just had twin girls. They are so sweet and so small and are so different in personality already! Poppy is a bit of a crier, but a quiet crier, where as Bella cries little, but is a high achiever on the decibel meter! Here are some pictures of us all:

I have now kicked my last football until the baby is here. My friend, Ben Leaman (http://benleaman.blogspot.com/), managed to break his leg at football three weeks ago, bringing a sharp perspective into how long we’ve got left before the little guy gets here. It’s odd to think that there was a time I valued football over family and to an extent I’m genuinely shocked that football has taken a back seat since I met Liz – she must be a heck of a girl! I’m already having physio on my back; I’d like to be able to move when the boy gets here!

Today was the day I finally cycled to work wear shorts…the summer has been ushered in! Unfortunately (I hope Liz has stopped reading my this point) it was a while before I noticed that my front break wasn’t actually re-attached after I’d put my wheel back on this morning… was quite the shock when I pulled on it after a car tried to knock me off my bike. I’m ok though!

There’s plenty more going on, such a Tottenham Hotspurs reaching the Champions League next year… I’d be stupid to put everything into one post though… right?


P.S. Check out this hair!!!